Fighting the Demons
by Lady Lylia
Summary: Jalil doesn't feel his disorder, not in Everworld. Being here cures him... right? Meanwhile, WTE goes on. DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that isn't mine! PLEASE READ!!!
1. Dirty Hands

I sit down wearily in my chair. Keeping ten-foot-tall toddlers from killing each other has never been easy. It's amazing how comfortable Greek chairs can be though. Get rid of Lazyboy, I've got the Greeks! Shit, I'm starting to sound like Christopher.  
  
There's a little wash basin at my bedside. No mirrors in Everworld, this is the best I can do. I look at my reflection, stare at the slightly rippled version of me. A tall figure, skin the color of coffee with only the barest hint of creme. Black hair, used to be cut fairly short, once. I haven't let any swordsman play barber on me yet, and hopefully I never will, so the only option, aside from living with an afro and having Christopher ream me out for it, is to put it in dredlocks. Even that makes me a joke target, but not as badly. It could be worse, much worse.  
  
I look at my eyes. A shade paler than my skin, bright with intelligence, or so I hope. Maybe not. Everyday, something I know gets disproven, which tends to dim my probable IQ considerably. Not that Everworld has IQ tests, but still. I have long eyelashes too, which frame my brown eyes in full lustered black. April has said more than once that she envies me for those lashes. Not that it matters, her eyes are much prettier than mine.  
  
I look at myself with a laugh. If the real world saw me, I'd be the laughing stock of Chicago for years. A black boy in a toga, just think! Oh well, here it is expected of me. But it still doesn't look right. Not on me. I mean, General Davideus, the hero, sure he can wear a toga and get away with it, but not me! Togas show too much leg for my tastes.  
  
My gaze falls, like it does so often these days, to my hands. I've been clean for monthes. Never felt the OC in Everworld, and I'm proud. My slender hands with thin fingers and little nails trimmed to the nub by my teeth. I see something, a spot of bluish black under my left index finger's nail. There's dirt under my fingernails! I instantaneously stick my hands in the wash basin. I scrub furiously, have to get my hands clean.  
  
It's been so long, my hands are so dirty now. Dirty, dirty, dirty. When was the last time I'd washed them properly? Not for quite a while, maybe never in Everworld! Horrible, what a bad person I am. Think of all the dirt that must have accumulated by now! Dirty, dirty.  
  
Shit, no! This can't be happening. Not after all this time. Why, how? My brain struggles to explain it, even as I continue to scrub away. I keep scrubbing, long after my flesh begins to rub off, scraping off bits of skin. I'm bleeding now. Blood is so dirty, I'll have to clean extra hard to get all the blood off.  
  
Think, Jalil, think. What am I going to do? I have to stop this, before my hands fall off. Logically, think. You have to stop scrubbing. Stop, Jalil, stop. STOP, DAMN IT! I can't stop, I can't stop. Shit, I can't stop.  
  
More blood. Blood is dirty, I have to finish washing my hands. Too much blood, must clean off all the blood. No, now there are tears too. Tears are dirty, must clean your face. You have to wash your face, Jalil. 


	2. White Linen

I hear something, coming from Jalil's room. What is that noise? A wounded animal? Stranger things have happened, especially here. I knock on the door, "Jalil? Are you okay?"  
  
The voice that answers is Jalil's, but it sounds nothing like him. "I'm fine, April! Don't worry! I'll see you later!" It sounds like he's hurt, crying, something. I don't know.  
  
I knock again, "Jalil, can I come in?"  
  
"NO!" he screams, like a wild animal. "Don't, April! Don't, please, I..." I think he said more, but I can't hear him through the walls. That settles it. I push open the door.  
  
I knew it would be bad, but I wasn't prepared for this. Jalil is sitting on the edge of his bed, the wash basin in his lap. There's blood, so much blood. Blood on the bed, blood in the water, blood on him. Mostly blood on him. Blood on his hands, his face. He whispers, "I told you not to come in." So much blood everywhere. I only saw him bleed that way once before, when Senna...  
  
"Oh God!" I rush over to him, sit beside him on the bed. He's still frantically scrubbing his hands. "Jalil, are you all right?"  
  
He shivers helplessly, looks up at me. His beautiful, toffee-colored eyes are fragile, innocent, filled with tears. "My hands, April. They are so dirty. I have to wash my hands." He struggles, shaking, gasping for breath, yanks his hands violently out of the wash basin. He whispers, softly, meeting my gaze as evenly as he can, "Help me." His eyes, his intelligent brown eyes, are filling with something, something bitter and self-loathing. He detests himself for this. "Help me."  
  
"All right," I say softly, trying to be calm. I don't know how bad it is right now. Maybe Jalil doesn't feel it anymore, or maybe he's barely holding it in. Until I know, I have to be careful. "First thing we have to do is bandage you up, okay?" I keep my voice tranquil, soothing. He has to stay calm. "Can you sit right here while I go get some linen for you?"  
  
He starts to speak, then just nods, but then opens his mouth again. "Don't tell anyone, April. Please." This must hurt him so much. He's so proud, prides himself so much on his intellect, and now he's reduced to this. I know I'm not strong enough to face that, amazed that anyone is.  
  
"There's no way you can walk around with bandages on your hands and not tell them why," I reply, as practically as I can. He just looks at me, shaking and crying softly. "I won't tell anyone, not right now. We may have to tell David and Christopher later, but for right now I won't say anything."  
  
It isn't what Jalil wants, but it's enough for now. He nods dully, and I leave. Fortunately, I've been working on Everworld as an amateur doctor for quite a while now, and I have enough medical knowledge to wrap his hands, and face if need be. It only takes me a minute to get strips of linen, and I return to Jalil's room as quickly as I can.  
  
I sigh with relief when I notice that he's not trying to wash his hands anymore. He sees my gaze, hears my sigh, replies with a simple, "The water is dirty. The OC wouldn't want me washing my hands in dirty water, that would make it worse."  
  
I don't try to respond verbally; what could I say? I just pick up the wash basin, put it in a corner, and then kneel in front of him, where he's sitting on the bed. I take the linen strips and slowly wind them around his hands and forearms, protecting the wounds while they heal. Then I look over his face, dabbing at it with a piece of dry cloth. It looks bad, but it really isn't. If the blood had been cleaned up, I almost wouldn't have noticed it at all, and the scratches aren't that deep.  
  
A lone tear is running down his face. I sit down beside him on the bed, wipe it away with my thumb. "You touched me. I may never wash this cheek again," he says, half laughing and half crying.  
  
I smile faintly. "Well, in that case," I say, and I pick up his hands, hold them in ine. He starts crying again, weeping his self-hatred, his disgrace. I give him a half-smile and put my arms around him. I may have wrapped his hands, but I don't think anything is going to repair his dignity, or his sanity. He leans into my embrace, rests his head on my shoulder. He may be a head and a half taller than I am, but he seems almost like a child right now.  
  
"I thought all this was behind me," he whispers softly.  
  
I rub his back with one hand as I hold him close. "Is it still there, or has it gone?"  
  
Jalil sits up a little, not pulling out of my hug but just trying to meet my gaze. "It's here to stay, I suspect." He's trying to be a scientist again. Trying to be Mr. Spock, logical and practical and calm. I'm not buying it.  
  
"It'll be okay, you don't know that for sure," I reply with a faint smile.  
  
He shakes his head vehemently. "You may be a good actress, April, but empty promises aren't your forte. Everworld may be gullible, naive, but I'm not. I know this like the back of my hand," he says, trying to laugh about it again, "and I know that the voice is here. Telling me to straighten out this bed, to rearrange the furniture in here, to wash my hands again. The voice is back to stay, I think."  
  
"We'll get through this, Jalil, don't worry. You're not alone, all right?"  
  
He chuckles morbidly. "Of course not, I've got Mr. OC to keep me company."  
  
"I meant me," I reply, much more seriously than I intended.  
  
The silence stretches for a minute as I just meet his gaze, stare at his coffee colored eyes. "And David and Christopher," Jalil finishes quietly.  
  
I look away for a second. "Yeah, David and Christopher too." I shuffle my feet a little, give Jalil a squeeze, then pull back. "Do you need me to stay?"  
  
"Need, no." I stand, start to go. I knew he would say that, I shouldn't have asked. "BUT," he adds, as I turn away, "I would appreciate it if you did."  
  
I just chuckle, turn back around, and sit beside him again. He puts an arm around my shoulders, and I put my arms back around him.  
  
It's odd, but somehow Jalil and I decided somehow, without speaking, to just sit there, not to talk. I guess, when you've been to hell and back (literally) with someone, you just know when to speak, and when to let the silence speak for you. 


	3. Knock Knock

I'm alone, in a forest clearing. Galahad stands before me, whole and well. His sword is on his belt, and he looks serious, proud. "You have a destiny, David," he says, reaching out his hand and brushing my face. It's not a lover's caress, it's not romantic at all. More like he's giving me something, a part of himself. Then the touch is gone, and he unbuckles his sword belt, lays his sword at my feet. "Meet your destiny, David," he says.  
  
The trees around me begin shaking. Each one rattles, its branches banging against its brothers, making a horrible knocking sound. Knock knock. Galahad is speaking again, but I can't hear the words over the noise. Knock knock. I can't think, can't hear anything over the knocking. Knock knock.  
  
KNOCK KNOCK!  
  
"David, are you in there? Wake up! David? Hello?" It's a woman's voice, April. I sit up. I was dreaming, again. Not waking up in the real world. No CNN News Flash. Just dreaming, ordinary dreams. I live in Everworld now. I couldn't be happier, but.  
  
But April is waking me up, urgently. And it isn't morning yet, the room is dark. No one wakes me up to tell me happy news.  
  
I roll out of bed, literally. I'm wearing my usual General Davideus outfit: the toga and leggings thing. I'm used to it now, seems much more comfy than Levis these days.  
  
"Something's happened, right?" are the first words out of my mouth when I open the door.  
  
April nods, her green eyes troubled and her auburn hair touselled. She doesn't bother to speak, just goes to the door to Christopher's room, starts pounding on his door. "Christopher? Get uu-uup! Christopher?"  
  
It takes even longer to get him up than it took for me. Finally, he opens the door, wearing his leggings and an open toga. "Yes, darling?" he asks, as sarcastically as he can muster at gods-only-know what hour. "Aren't you supposed to wake Sleeping Beauty with a kiss?"  
  
April just tosses her hair as she walks by him and walks over to Jalil's door. She raps on it once, lightly, and then just pushes the door open.  
  
"What, so she's allowed to barge into Jalil's room? If I didn't know better, I'd think there was something between those two..." Christopher confidentially whispers, as loudly as he can, to me. I pointedly ignore him, follow April.  
  
She and Jalil are sitting on the bed. He looks terrible. I think there's something wrong with his face, but I can't tell in the dim light. And there's no mistaking the bandages on his hands. Christopher sits in the lone chair, I stand.  
  
Jalil just looks at us. He has always had a wise, dignified presense, and no less so now. Or maybe not. There's something about him right now, something tragic and bitter and I'm not sure what else. I'm not a poet, never have been. Never tried to put feelings into words. Maybe if I was good at it I'd be able describe the way Jalil looks right now. The best I can do is that he looks like hell. Not Hel, but hell all the same.  
  
He takes a deep breath, and says simply, "The obsessive compulsive is back."  
  
"What?!" It can't be, he hasn't felt OC on Everworld. For some reason he was only obsessive compulsive in the real world, not here. Not here.  
  
Jalil nods. "I can't explain it, but it's back."  
  
I half expect Christopher to make some kind of crack. Thankfully he doesn't. He just stares. So do I. April doesn't, she already knew. Great.  
  
It can't be. "I thought you didn't feel OC here." Christopher nodded in agreement, looking like a deer in headlights. This was too much.  
  
"So did I," Jalil replies with a sigh. "So did I. I got so used to not having OC, I forgot to guard against it. So, when it hit me tonight, I couldn't fight it off. Hell, I couldn't fight it off in the old world. I tried, sure, and I tried tonight. But I failed then, and I failed just now." He held up his hands, the linen clearly visible in the moonlight. "My hands were dirty, I had to wash them," he says simply, as though that took care of everything, made everything right.  
  
April instantly reached out, took his hands in hers. For a long time, no one spoke. What was there to say?  
  
Finally, General Davideus takes over, leaving me, plain old David, feeling quite grateful. There are questions I have to ask, questions that David isn't capable of asking, simply because it would be uncomfortable for Jalil. But Davideus knows how to handle it. Yeah, it wouldn't be sugar coated, but that's not something I do well. "Jalil, do we need to do anything special if you are OC here? Do you need a guard or something?"  
  
Jalil just glares at me, cold fury in his eyes. "I was afraid you would say something like that. That's why I got so nervous when Senna found out, so long ago. It made her think I was weak, AM weak. I don't want that. I've been fighting this demon for years, David. I suppose I can keep fighting."  
  
"Suppose?" Christopher asks, his blue eyes troubled. "As in, a sure, why not, kind of response? I don't get it, man."  
  
Jalil sighs. He looks at us each in turn, his brown eyes meeting each of ours. "All my life, I've fought this. Fought my compulsions, my little 'habits'. Here, for the first time ever, I was free. Really and truly free. Now, that freedom is gone. Again. Right now, there is a voice in my head, telling me that I still need to wash my hands, that there might be some blood left on them from when I got hurt. And do you know how I got hurt? I scrubbed my hands until they bled. So now I need to clean up the blood." He shivers a little, stares at his hands. "Maybe it's just that I'm weak, because I am weak, maybe not. All I know is that I'm not sure if I want to live like this."  
  
April doesn't say anything, just puts her arms around him, leans her head on his shoulder. She doesn't try to comfort him with words, simply with her companionship.  
  
I just watch them together for a second. It's been ingrained in me for too long that showing affection to other guys isn't okay. I mean, I know that's not true, but that's how I was raised, that's the macho trip I run on. The best that I can do is punch him lightly on the arm, tell him, "I told you we weren't losing one of us, and I meant it. You are one of us, and don't you dare forget it." He gives me a half-smile without really replying.  
  
And then, to all of our amazements, Christopher gets out of his chair, sits down beside Jalil, and pats his arm. "You said OC was your handicap in the real world. Well, Jalil, as you have kindly pointed out a hundred times over, this ISN'T the real world. We don't function on the same set of rules here. That means that here there's probably a cure, simply because there wasn't one in the old world. Use your Vulcan logic, do an algorithm, settle the issue over a game of Othello or chess. It doesn't matter how you ponder, in this twisted universe I'm right."  
  
Jalil laughs, a much heartier laugh than he should have been capable of. "That makes no sense."  
  
"And neither does Everworld, so I must be correct!" Christopher replies smugly. Then, he leans over and whispers in Jalil's ear. It's a stage whisper again, because I hear it clearly, and I'm sure April does too, but for Christopher that's the point. "And besides, if you die, I get to hop in April's pants because you won't be around to beat me up for it!"  
  
Jalil blushes, which wouldn't be noticable unless you knew him well because of his complexion, as April leans across his lap to swat at Christopher, who agilely dodges his way back to his seat.  
  
Me? I just stare at my three best friends and laugh. No matter how bad it gets, we are in it together, and that's what matters. We'll beat this, Jalil's little "demons", I know it. 


	4. Her Eyes

After our little meeting, David says something about us needing to get some sleep. Then he leaves, punching Jalil on the arm again. I sit there for another couple of seconds, but it's obvious that April and Jalil want to be left alone, so I silently agree to that. What else could I do?  
  
I walk back to my room, open the door, and lie on my bed. I just stare at the ceiling, nothing else to do. I mean, I could go back to sleep, but I don't think I can. Too much to think about. Actually, going back to sleep is impossible, since I never fell asleep in the first place.  
  
I think I'm suffering from insomnia. That or just too much on my brain. With all that's happened lately, it's no surprise. Thoughts playing in my mind, over and over, like a broken record.  
  
Etain.  
  
Her bright blue eyes. Her eyes are the color of the noonday sky, the deep blue sea, a Pepsi can. Those eyes gleaming at me. The way she looked at me with those blue eyes, like I was the most important person in the world, whichever world.  
  
Her smile. Like the sun breaking free of the clouds on a cold day, when you feel like the sun started shining just for you. My own personal sunshine. She was glorious, brilliant, wondrous. She was everything I was not.  
  
Her confidence. She was a druid, a princess, now a queen. She had a regal air, the pride that comes from being competent and graceful in a world that has too few people like that. A beautiful, knowledgeable, wise woman. What I still can't believe is that somehow saw something in me, no matter how pitiful I am in comparison. What I still can't believe is that I lost her.  
  
The future I saw every time I looked at her. The little house, the white picket fence. Growing old together, having little quarter-elf children. Sitting on a porch swing, watching the sunset, together. Holding her in my arms. Forever, that's the word I was seeking. Forever.  
  
She agreed to marry the Dwarf King. Her eyes dulled, her smile vanished, but still walking with the regality of a princess, about to become a queen. She took his hand, turned to face us all, to apologize to me with her beautiful eyes. It was too late, I had to leave, had to run. The last time I dared to hope that she could be mine.  
  
Her beautiful blue eyes filled with tears, her stunning smile hiding behind the clouds, her striking countenance dull and quiet. The day I said goodbye, left Dagger Mouth, and her, forever.  
  
Now, tonight, alone in my room at Olympus, thinking of my Etain. Wondering if she's thinking of me.  
  
No one knows how badly this is getting me. It's almost like I'm back to two Christophers. Everworld Christopher, the real me, and real world Christopher, the pretend me that's going through the motions of being alive. But now both me's are on Everworld, in the same body.  
  
Etain. My Etain, lost to me. She's Queen of Dagger Mouth now, not Mrs. Etain Hitchcock. She's not mine.  
  
Why can't she be mine? 


	5. Waking Up

I slowly wake up, feeling a weight on my body. My eyes open, and I take in my surroundings. Even after all of this time, part of me still expects me to be in the old world. But I'm not, I'm in Olympus. WTE.  
  
I'm lying on my back, and...oh shit, April's lying beside me, with her head on my chest! Damn it, we must have fallen asleep after David and Christopher left. Shit. She looks so peaceful, sleeping in my arms.  
  
I'm ready to get up and get to work, plans for helping Olympus and all that, but April isn't awake, and I don't want to make her get up, not yet. She looks so peaceful, so content, lying beside me. Wonder if she'll still be content when she wakes up, like this. I'll bet she'll be pissed, that we did this. Not that we did anything, we just fell asleep, but...  
  
I hardly realize it, but my free hand, the one she's not lying on, is running through her hair. My hand is bandaged, white linen. Oh damn, I'm not alone anymore, the OC is back. Sometimes I almost wish for those CNN news flashes like we used to have. I kept track of everything better that way.  
  
April has such beautiful hair, auburn curls running wild. She usually has it pulled back with a piece of cord, but I guess she was wearing her hair down last night. My long, filthy fingers are running through her hair. My dirty, dirty fingers.  
  
I really have to wash my hands. But I can't right now, I would wake April up if I moved. That doesn't matter, wake her up so you can wash your hands!  
  
I shake her gently, very gently. "April?" I whisper. "April?"  
  
She slowly comes to, her green eyes fluttering open. She has nice eyes. "Jalil? What..." It takes her a minute to realize where she is, and then she sits up beside me on the bed. "Good morning," she says quietly. "I'm sorry I fell asleep here, I should have gone back to my room." She doesn't really seem angry, just embarassed.  
  
"No," I reply quickly. Too quickly. Damn it, I'm a fool! "I didn't mind." Now you sound like an idiot, you know that? Stupid, Jalil. Just stupid.  
  
If she's embarassed by what I just said, she doesn't show it. "Let me look at your hands." I hold out my hands and she slowly unwraps them. She holds them carefully in hers, looking them over. "They're healing nicely," she says at last. "I don't think they'll even scar."  
  
"Are you going to put more bandages on?" I ask quietly. I still need to wash my hands.  
  
"I think I will."  
  
I shake my head. "Don't, it'll be fine."  
  
She raises one reddish eyebrow. "No, I'm wrapping you back up." And she does, quickly and efficiently.  
  
"April, don't. Please. I have to wash my hands," I mutter quietly.  
  
She shakes her head, takes my now-bandaged hands in hers. "No, Jalil, you don't have to. You can fight this, you know you can."  
  
My voice cracks as I reply, "No I can't. I've been fighting for a long time. For too long. I am so tired of this. I want it to go away."  
  
April doesn't speak. She just puts her hands on my shoulders, pulls me close. I rest my head on her shoulder, even as the tears well up in my eyes. She sways back and forth, holding me in her arms.  
  
I can't believe she hasn't abandoned me. Ever since I was little, I was afraid that if people found out, they'd shun me. But April didn't shun me when she found out, isn't shunning me now. "I'm so ashamed," I whisper, letting my voice get muffled in her soft neck, her thick red hair.  
  
"I know," April murmurs back. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, you know. It's not your fault, Jalil. You know that."  
  
"I don't want to do this anymore."  
  
She's rubbing my back and neck with one hand, her fingertips gently tracing my spine. Her other hand is in my hair, caressing the dredlocks. "We'll get you through this, you'll be fine. Maybe it'll go away."  
  
I don't bother to tell her she's lying, she and I both know it. I just lean on her instead, trying to mask my sobs. I'm so weak, crying like a baby in April's arms. I should be strong, for her. "I have to wash my hands."  
  
She shakes her head. "I'm not letting you. You are going to stay right here, even if I have to tie you to the bed."  
  
"Christopher will be so jealous," I reply with an empty chuckle that comes out more like a cough. I can't see April's face, but I know she's grinning.  
  
We just sit there for awhile, my head resting on her shoulder, her arms around me. Finally, thankfully, the tears stop. But I don't lift my head. I don't WANT to lift my head. So I just sit beside her and let my presense speak for me. Smart as I supposedly am, I don't think I will ever know how to say what I am feeling right now. How I am feeling about her. Gratitude isn't half of it.  
  
But then, I find myself wondering, what's the other half? 


	6. Holding Hands

I feel so great right now, peaceful. We must have been sitting here for over an hour, but I still feel very comfortable, safe. Even though Jalil is going through hell, all I can think about is how close he and I are right now. He's in my arms, for God's sake! I'm so selfish. He's in such pain right now, suffering so badly, and he wants me to comfort him. And I can't even concentrate because I'm thinking about how warm he feels against my side!  
  
But it is nice, to have him close to me like this. I wonder if he's going to need hugs more often now... Honestly, April! He's hurting, it's like you are taking advantage of him. Be good! I laugh on the inside, laugh at myself. I've changed. Everworld has changed me, has changed all of us.  
  
I wonder if he feels the same way about me. I mean, sometimes I think he does. I don't know, this would be confusing enough if we were still in the real world, but in Everworld EVERYTHING is upside down. I mean, I've never really thought about guys before. And never about a black guy. Not that it matters, but Mom would have killed me. That's funny, Mom killing me because I like a black guy in a parallel dimension! What a laugh. It's strange, I'm starting to forget that life. I have to think to remember what Mom and Dad looked like, the way my room was, my friends at school.  
  
Wait, I admitted it, just now. I admitted that I like him. I like Jalil Sherman.  
  
Damn it!  
  
I feel Jalil move, lift his head. He's just looking at me, meeting my gaze. He has such beautiful eyes, deep mahogany brown with long, thick eyelashes. Those eyes have been hurting, it's so obvious. But there's something else in them, something he can't repress. Something poetic and beautiful and gentle and wise. And he's looking at ME like that! No one has ever looked at me that way before.  
  
I smile, gently. It feels so forced, so fake, but only because I have to concentrate on it, have to keep thinking about it because I'm too awestruck to smile. He has such beautiful eyes, eyes that he's closing right now, leaning towards me.  
  
I lean into him, letting my hands move to his shoulders. My eyes are closing too, almost against my will. Or it would be against my will, if I didn't want this so much. I feel his hands move, rest on my waist, feel us moving closer and closer and-  
  
"Jalil? Rise and shine, Mr. Sherman! Get out of bed, you-!" Christopher shoves open the door, laughing. Until he sees us.  
  
Jalil and I break up, reluctant and embarassed and half-laughing. Something flashes in Christopher's eyes, something I don't quite understand. But he doesn't say whatever he's thinking, just gives us both a wry grin. "Well, at least I don't have to knock on your door too, April," he says with a shrug and then leaves, shutting the door behind him.  
  
As the door clicks shut, Jalil and I look at each other with a nervous laugh. We don't quite meet each other's gaze. "I guess we should go to breakfast, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, let's," he replies with a little half smile. He stands up, holds out his bandaged hand to me. I take it and he pulls me to my feet. He doesn't let go of my hand as we walk to breakfast. Together, hand in hand. Wow. 


	7. Making Plans

I am waiting for Christopher so we can walk to breakfast together. I'm not eager to sit alone with a roomful of gods, not this early in the morning. It takes him forever to come to the corner where we meet, just outside our hallway. "What happened to you?" I ask. "You don't look too good."  
  
"I just saw Jalil and April," Christopher says quietly, not really thinking about it.  
  
What does that mean? "So?"  
  
"Together, man. I saw them TOGETHER," he repeats, as though that clears up everything.  
  
I ask again, "So?"  
  
"Do I have to put it in writing?" I just look at him, cock my head to one side, wait for him to explain. "Ugh, David, you are so thick sometimes. Here's the scoop, an Everworld-exclusive CNN newsflash. I miss Etain. I've been trying to put her out of my mind, but no such luck. I think about her from when I wake up to when I'm lying in bed like an insomniac, because I can't close my eyes without seeing her."  
  
He's speaking faster and faster, like he has to get it out in one breath. "I see Jalil and April together, and I can't help but think about Etain, ya know? How happy she and I could have been. But we aren't happy, we aren't together. No white picket fence in my future, you see. And now, half of our merry band of minstrels is attached, and I'm not in the lucky half. Do you get the picture yet?" He shouts the last part of his rantings, nearly hysterical.  
  
"Yeah, I get it," I reply quietly. "I understand, Christopher, you know that." I don't need to explain myself now. Everyone knows about how I felt, how I feel, about Senna.  
  
"I know," he whispers. Man, Christopher's taller than I am, but he sounds like a little kid right now. Man. "Was it this bad with you and Senna?"  
  
I just look at Christopher, half shocked and half sick at the very mention of her name. How do I answer? How do I explain the feeling that I thought I would have died without her, that I would have killed to keep her with me, that I still feel all this even though I know she used me till the bitter end? How do you explain loving someone who hated you, who treated you like a prized showhorse? Senna would have killed me without a thought if it served her.  
  
Finally, I find the words. "Worse in a way, but better too. I know she never wanted me, so I wasn't really expecting a future for us. I was just hoping that somehow she'd come around and love me, but it wasn't going to happen and I knew it. But Etain actually loves you, you two might have worked. I don't know," I finish lamely, wishing there was something I could say that would fix everything, that would save Christopher from all of this. But no words I could say will ever do that.  
  
Christopher sighs, staring at his shoes. "I guess we had better get some breakfast. Long day ahead."  
  
We both start slowly walking down the corridor. My sandalled footsteps echo too loudly in the still air.  
  
Breakfast in Olympus is nothing special. Though the quality and quantity of food is impressive, the meals themselves are simple. Every breakfast, the four of us old worlders eat together, feasting on ambrosia. We don't discuss our pasts, only the future. Discussing the past would hurt too much, for all of us.  
  
Christopher was right. Jalil and April are sitting together. They're not holding hands or anything, but it's obvious now that there's something between them. Would I have noticed if Christopher hadn't said anything?  
  
"So, what's the plan?" Christopher asks with his falsely cheerful smile.  
  
"I don't know. There's too many things to tackle at once. Let's see," I say. I hold out my fingers one by one. "We need the support of all the gods, from every pantheon we can get. We also need every race on our side. Elves, dwarves, faeries, everybody. We need to train every soldier to fight together, we need them to learn to use our weapons. We need to land the Coo Hatch firmly on our side. Then we need a battle plan."  
  
April nods. "Meanwhile, we have to keep an eye on the perimeter and an ear to the ground, just in case the enemy sneaks up on us before we are ready to get them."  
  
"Well, that doesn't sound too hard. I'll take complicated and risky schemes for 500, Alex!" Christopher chuckles softly to himself. There's a dark gleam in his eyes. He's discouraged these days. Not good, but I don't know how to help him.  
  
"Well, who wants to take what?" Jalil asks, rubbing his bandaged hands softly. We all just look at him. "There are quite a few things that need to be done, and there's no way we can pull them all off in time if we don't split up."  
  
"Well, Davideus here has the troops under control, and probably the battle plan too," Christopher says, punching me on the arm. "I think I might want to go Coo Hatch hunting." He must see the way we are looking at him, wondering why he volunteers first. "I overheard a few of Hephaestus's servants talking yesterday. They were discussing going to somewhere NEAR Daggermouth to see if they could study metalsmithing with the Coo Hatch. I can pretend to be one of them. Meanwhile, I have the king of the dwarves and his half-elven bride right there."  
  
Especially his half-elven bride. Etain. I add that silently for him, then I nod. "It sounds okay to me, if you can stay out of trouble. What about you two?"  
  
"I am more than happy to persuade the gods, both on Olympus and elsewhere. The minstrel act again, but a solo this time."  
  
Jalil shook his head. "A duet might be a better idea. I don't think anyone should be facing the gods alone."  
  
Christopher and I exchanged a glance, and we both shrugged. Why interfere with them? And besides, Jalil is right. Sending April out alone to take on dozens of angry toddlers who armed to the teeth is as good as killing her. "How are we all going to stay in contact?" I ask.  
  
"Well, we have to start with Olympus, don't we?" April asked with a smile. "It's you we have to keep track of, Christopher."  
  
"I am sure we can send a messenger back and forth. Daggermouth isn't that far."  
  
I have been thinking, and April is wrong. They need to travel. "Athena and I can take care of Olympus. It is the other pantheons we need on our sides, which means you two have to go as well."  
  
It's obvious Jalil hasn't been listening. He is stroking his chin, has been for several minutes. "Do they have trained birds here? Messenger pigeons, perhaps?"  
  
We all look at each other. At the same instant, we all realize what Jalil means. Communicating by bird. That just might work! I slap him on the back. "Great idea, man. That sounds good!"  
  
"It still doesn't solve where we are going," April says coolly, though the warmth in her eyes, happiness at Jalil's idea, is still visible. "Which pantheons do we need the most?"  
  
"We need the Norse, and the Mayans couldn't hurt." Everyone shudders at the mention of the Mayans, but Christopher continues coldly, "Remember how bloodthirsty they were? Well, if we can turn that group of psychotic cannibals against the Hetwan, so much the better."  
  
"Assuming they don't decide to eat us on the way. Too risky," Jalil counters.  
  
"We need any other pantheon we can get. Maybe there's a Chinese one we haven't bumped into yet or something."  
  
"Could we wake up the Egyptians?" I ask.  
  
Jalil just shakes his head, doesn't bother to reply.  
  
"They would be nice to have on our side, though. If we could only make them wake up..." I muse.  
  
Christopher chuckles, starts singing in a squeaky falsetto a little song we all recognize. "If you wanna be somebody, if you wanna go somewhere, you betta wake up and PAAAAAAY attention!" We all just stare at him. "What? You guys didn't like Sister Act 2?" I blink. "Sheesh, everyone's a critic. I mean, the first movie WAS better, but still."  
  
I don't know who laughed first. Maybe it was me. All I know is that that first little chuckle broke through the tension in the room like a dam shattering. A little crack that becomes a gaping hole in an instant. Suddenly, we're all laughing, and something inside of me whispers that everything is gonna be all right. 


	8. Springing Step

I walk over to the forge of Hephaestus. There's a spring in my step. Which is odd, I haven't stepped lively in quite awhile. Since you left Daggermouth...and Etain, says the voice in my head. I tell myself to shut up, like I always do. What else is there for me to do but to keep walking, enjoy the bouncy feeling I have inside.  
  
I'm going to see her again. I'm going to see Etain! Not if you don't convince these two blacksmiths that you need to come along, I remind myself harshly.  
  
It's horrible in here. Hot as hell, with billowing clouds of black smoke everywhere. Wonder if the first Christians decided what hell was like after a visit to a forge like this one.  
  
Okay, Christopher, no more stalling. Time to strut your stuff.  
  
"Hey, boys," I say quietly. Boys is quite a misnomer. Much more like men. Burly men. Bigger than quarterbacks by far. More like bouncers, especially when they have their arms crossed like they do right now. Seriously big boys. Did I mention the fact that these guys tower over my head? Wow.  
  
One of them looks at me. "You are one of the assistants of General Davideus?"  
  
I try not to bristle at the term 'assistant'. They don't know any better, Christopher, really they don't. Don't get pissed at the overly-large gentlemen, Christopher. "Yes. Yes, I am. I require your assistance."  
  
"Yes, sir?" the other one asks. He would almost seem polite if it wasn't for the fact that I can smell his breath from three feet away. Shit, this guy needs a tic-tac!  
  
I nod. Deep breath, be cool, be smooth. I AM the Fonz. "I overheard you yesterday, discussing plans to study with the Coo Hatch. I believe the Coo Hatch are near Daggermouth now, correct?"  
  
"Yes, all you say is true. What is it you ask of us?" The big boys seem to be getting impatient. Not good.  
  
I try to give the pair a winning smile. Of course, it doesn't work, because my teeth are starting to chatter. Did I mention the size of these two yet? Shit!  
  
"General Davideus wishes for me to journey to Daggermouth. He sent me to ask permission to travel with you." I make sure to emphasize the word General. It makes me sound more official, even though it continues the stupid misconception that David is in charge. Oh well, it can't be helped.  
  
They look at each other for a moment, then the taller one nods. "This is acceptable. We leave in two days time, at dawn. We will not wait for you."  
  
I nod, then turn to leave. The heat of the forge is stifling, suffocating. I think if I stay in here too long I'm going to pass out.  
  
Even so, when I'm out those doors, I'm practically flying again. I'm gonna see Etain! 


End file.
